Deep Betrayal

folding my arms across my chest.
    Calder threw the car back in gear, muttering “Gladly.” A few minutes later he pulled into my driveway. He didn’t say good night. I didn’t either. I slammed the car door and ran up the porch steps.
    “How was the movie?” Mom asked.
    “Awesome. I’m going to bed,” I said as my feet hit the stairs.
    “Lily?”
    “Good night.” I slammed my bedroom door with enough force that our family portrait, which hung on the other side of the wall, slipped off its nail and crashed to the floor.

14
DISCOVERY
    T he next morning, I stood in the middle of my bedroom, still dressed in my clothes from the disastrous Date Night. The house seemed smaller, and that was saying something. Even alone in my room, the place was too crowded. Though everyone was asleep, the house was loud. The walls pressed in on me until I had no choice but to crawl out onto the porch roof for some air.
    Waves sloshed gently against the smooth gray stones on the beach and made sucking sounds under the dock. I crept to the edge of the roof and dropped silently to the ground, just in case Calder was in the hammock. I didn’t wantto fight, and I didn’t think I was the one who should apologize. As it turned out, it didn’t matter. Calder wasn’t there. Of course he wasn’t. He was probably still pissed, too. He was probably out with Dad. Maybe they hadn’t slept here at all.
    It was still so early that the sun barely peeked above the trees on Madeline Island. I peeled off my too-tight jeans, hopping from one foot to the other, until I was down to my underwear. The blouse Gabby had picked out for me hung crooked across my body, the neckline draping halfway down one arm. The water stretched out before me like a blue blanket. It waited for me, and my body tingled with longing for it.
    This was stupid. I was stupid.
    I touched my fingers to the beach glass hanging around my neck, feeling its warmth on my skin. Problem was, when it came to the lake, I couldn’t help myself.
    Despite what Calder said about his sisters never attacking onshore, land was where I felt more unsure of myself. Only in the water did my tensions dissolve. I had no fear. I felt lighter, smarter, braver. I belonged in the lake.
    “Stupid,” I said, this time out loud. But there was no convincing myself. Try as I might, I couldn’t ignore the instinct to dive simply because I was afraid of the consequences.
    I kissed my pendant for good luck and dove, reveling in the crushing rush in my ears. I wouldn’t go far. I promised myself that much.
    The water combed through my hair and caressed my cheek. It pulled along my legs, making them seem longer than before. I kicked and propelled myself away from shore, skirting the surface, pretending I was a real mermaid, that I could keep up with Calder and Dad.
    Reaching forward, I pulled myself through the water stroke after stroke, stroke after stroke, feeling the remaining bits of my rage dissipate. I turned a somersault. And then another. Twisting in the water. Startling a lake trout that came up to investigate. It made me want to laugh, and I surfaced so I could. I made no gasp at the air. It was all too easy. So very easy.
    When the air hit my face, I turned in a quick circle, completely disoriented. The dock was gone. The willow tree was gone. I turned again to look for the scattering of islands and realized I was at least a quarter mile north of our dock. How long had I been underwater? Or was it a matter of speed? No. That couldn’t be it. My body was nothing more than human. I hadn’t suddenly broken out with a tail. I would have noticed that. Still, I couldn’t help but look. Nope. Two legs.
    I turned south and filled my lungs to capacity, submerging and swimming underwater as I had before—though this time without fooling around. I counted in my head, One Mississippi. Two Mississippi  … When I hit sixty, I started to panic, but not in the normal way. My lungs didn’t burn with their pending collapse. I had no need to scramble toward the surface. This time, the panic came from not needing to breathe. At least, not yet.
    Two hundred Mississippi. Two hundred one …
    Familiar voices filled my head. The higher-pitched ones were muffled and far away. The lower ones were closer, south of the ferry route. There were no distinct words; instead, they hummed and blended into a kind of melody, an eerie harmony, like wind over an empty bottle.
    The lake floor sloped up to meet me. I